


Between Life and Death

by Oliver__Niko



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Angst, Demons, Grief/Mourning, M/M, Mages, References to Depression, Romance, other characters appear
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-31
Updated: 2020-09-04
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:06:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26213839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oliver__Niko/pseuds/Oliver__Niko
Summary: There is one taboo among mages: interfering with life and death. When Felix Fraldarius attempts to break this taboo in order to see his father and brother again, he accidentally hands his soul over to a demon in the process.
Relationships: Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Hubert von Vestra
Comments: 16
Kudos: 34
Collections: 2020 Ultra Rarepair Big Bang





	1. Taboo

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to my FE3H rare pair BB fic! I've enjoyed working on this a lot and I'm excited to finally share it. Please be sure to find the artist who illustrated this fic on Twitter @catatune. (Please, Sothis, grant me the power to embed links without screwing it up)
> 
> Enjoy!

A single glance in the mirror is all it takes. The young man is cursed by his own appearance. His eyes possess the same amber irises of his mother, but are surrounded with the dark circles so easily formed for the men of his family. His face is slimmer, but bears the same pale skin. Straighter hair whilst still coloured the same borderline blue.

He can tick off a number of differences, although they’re so slight, and so riddled with these similarities, that Felix Hugo Fraldarius cannot see anything but his late father and brother whenever he stares at his reflection.

Felix reaches for a pair of scissors. He’s already half-hearted in doing so. He debates cutting his hair frequently in an attempt to be different to them, this moment far from the first and unlikely to be the last, either. But it is pointless to cut those strands away. It will do little to combat the thoughts swirling around his head, only sink him deep into disappointment.

 _Thoughts …_ Ha. That’s putting it lightly. Those screams which resound in his ears, screams from his own agony—can they be summarised by such a simple word?

“ _No! No, Glenn, oh Goddess—_ _”_

 _Please, no._ How many times he must have uttered those words in his life.

He turns on the faucet. Splashes water onto his face, exhales a deep, shaky breath. In reality, the fact that his heart hasn't healed is more than understandable. To lose someone you could never imagine not being by your side, only to have another die … Suffering anguish in response is only human.

He simply wouldn’t be him without these harsh expectations forced on himself. His hands rest on either side of the sink, cold against his palms, and his eyes flicker back to the mirror's reflection. He sees himself this time. Determination breaking through the misery in his eyes, a resolve in his tightly pressed lips.

 _Soon,_ he thinks. He’s almost there.

  
  


* * *

  
  


_Ring._ The bell tinkles as Felix steps inside the store. A few customers are inside, their eyes flickering over the sound of someone entering. A faint moment of surprise over seeing a Fraldarius before tearing their eyes away. Good.

It’s common ground for mages to act dignified and calm to each other, mostly from how hidden away in the shadows they are. Even so, Felix still pleads silently for these manners, considering social interaction in general is something he doesn’t particularly enjoy, never mind with several other factors involved. Not wanting to be seen. Hating to be recognised for his surname.

But of course, it is inevitable. “An honour, Sir Fraldarius,” says the man behind the store’s counter, bowing his head. “Please let me know if I can be of assistance.”

 _You can be of assistance by leaving me the hell alone._ “Thank you, I shall bear that in mind.”

He averts his gaze from the cashier to people nearby. Two women turn their heads away swiftly. He forces himself not to roll his eyes and, adjusting the messenger bag on his shoulder back into place, heads over to some shelves.

He doesn’t need a lot. Only a fool would buy everything they need in a single space. You never know who is watching, if a demon has been sent to the shadows to spy on you. Even moderately difficult spells should be kept under the radar. So for one as advanced as this … No. All Felix needs to retrieve are the basics, that which he will be using for other spells in general.

Although it’s difficult for him to imagine what is going to come after this.

Jars of mugwort, sage. Normal herbs. He might as well pick up a few others; the more he sends any potential threats off his tail, the better. Moving along, his eyes land on candles. He’s saved this as well. Not usually a user of black, but it’s necessary here to abolish evil energies. White candles are also simple, but convenient. It all seems so _easy_ when getting the most basic items from his list.

He’s soon taking his basket to the counter. By now, the other customers thankfully seem to have lost interest in him when realising he’s shopping as normally as any other person. “I hope you’re doing well, Sir Fraldarius,” says the cashier as he begins to scan the items.

“Felix is fine. And as well as I can be.”

“Understandable, what with the duke … Such a tragedy. But you’ve been raised well. I’m sure you’ll move on from his death nicely. Others, not so much.” The cashier places the items into a recycled bag, chuckling to himself. “Do you know what happened the other day?”

“Enlighten me.” It almost comes out sarcastically, although Felix bites his tongue. He knows he’s being unreasonable, even if he has every reason to have a short fuse at the moment.

“Someone came in here looking for a book that contains _the_ ritual. Clearly distraught, out of their mind, but still … Of course, trying to attempt it is foolish in itself, but to do so this bluntly!”

“Right here in the open, practically announcing what they are going to do?” says Felix, bag now held by his side.

“Precisely! If a mage is going to be foolish enough to attempt forbidden magic, you think they would at least try to hide it.” The man folds his arms with a shake of his head. “Luckily, I managed to keep them here as I called for help. I believe they’re now receiving support for their mental health. In today’s world, we cannot sit by and allow such idiocy to happen.”

“Certainly not,” says Felix. “Thank you for doing your part. I should really get going now. Busy man, you know?”

Ugh, the cashier is holding out his hand for Felix to take. He does so. “Of course. Take care, Sir Fral—Felix, I mean. You’re still young, and the community would hate to see anything happen to you.”

Age has little to do with it. This concern is also surely not directed at Felix himself, as a person. It is all in that surname, of expectations forced on him simply because he was born in a certain bloodline. Always compared. Those who look at him see the brother he will never surpass—even if he had the strength to do so, it matters not now Glenn is dead.

Still, he smiles, until he’s finally outside and the fresh air is freeing enough for him to exhale a sigh. The nerves are beginning to kick in. He’d usually chastise himself for such emotions, although in such a dangerous situation, it is these very emotions which will keep him alive.

He begins to walk down the path, listening to the cars passing him by. Simplicity. Many think nothing of these sounds, of the distant smell of cooking sausages reaching his nose, for they do not understand what it means to perceive them.

It means you’re alive. And it’s difficult to understand, sometimes, if that is a blessing or a curse.

  
  


* * *

The air around Felix’s head is thick, tension weighing heavily on him before he has even begun. Chalk scrapes across the concrete floor of his basement. Its sound, the texture, pierces through him. He has always despised how it feels. If only he could draw out such an intricate pentagram with his blood. Although annoyingly, this comes later. And he would probably become dazed from losing that much blood anyway.

He’s careful. Any mistake he makes in these lines could have disastrous consequences. If a pentagram is not flawless, be it from overlapping lines or inaccurately drawn shapes, it will interrupt the flow of magic. He’s already taken enough risk by doing this as it is. Every step, if he wants even a minuscule hope of this being successful, has to be perfect.

He rests back on his knees, inspecting his work. In the centre lies a focal point: the Crest of Fraldarius, that which grants his family their magic. Once his eyes have scrutinised every line all over again, he can be satisfied that everything is accurate enough. He takes a pinch of herbs and scatters it over the drawn lines.

An exhale. The moment he begins the ritual properly, not just this preparation, he cannot stop. He has to be sure he’s ready and won’t stumble over words.

Time and time again of looking in the mirror, repeating the incantation, having to force away any distractions. _What will you do, when you_ do _see them again? What will this mean for them, you, to cross the line that not even a toe should creep over?_

He can only hope he is strong enough. His eyes take in the candles he has left at three corners of the pentagram. Black for himself, white for them. Two souls he can only hope he will reach.

All right. Another exhaled breath, and he thinks he’s calm enough. He holds his hands in front of him to make sure. Unlike the pounding of his heart, they are still, even with how desperately he wants to shake. Pathetic.

Better now, before he loses his nerve. His hands take hold of an amulet left to the side. How long he spent acquiring this … He prefers to not think about it even for a moment. They’re limited in quantity, made by mages of old who had also been foolish enough to grant spirits corporeal forms.

No more foolish than him. Less so, perhaps, considering all the horrific tales over the centuries should have taught him better than this.

But he’ll take it, even if it leads him straight into the pits of hell. His hand squeezes over the amulet. Black garnet is cool against his palm.

And, in an ancient tongue of a generation long ago, “ _I, Felix Hugo Fraldarius, call on the Goddess to grant me her power.”_ Slow, calm. A common lesson taught to mages; to never mumble and make your voice unclear. He reaches for a box of matches. _Scratch._ Fire ignites on the end, illuminating the dimly lit room. From the moment this flame has appeared, something has shifted in the air, as though a greater power already understands his plan.

One might perceive it as a warning. In reality, he already has no choice. He cannot stop until he is done.

“ _Bless me the strength to communicate beyond the realm of corporeal existence.”_

He reaches the match towards the candle on the right. “ _I seek the soul of one who possesses the same Crest running through my veins. I seek the soul of Glenn Percival Fraldarius.”_ The wick is lit. The flame immediately flickers and dances. Subtly, but still unnatural. “ _May Sothis grant him protection. May he cross over.”_

Felix settles back on his knees. He’s shuddering by now. The moment he scatters the ashes from the match onto the pentagram, however, he’s filled with a surge of relief, pride—the white chalked lines flash black, before returning to their original white. Felix forces his hands to remain calm as he prepares a second match.

“ _I seek a second. I seek he too who possesses the Crest_ _running through my veins. I seek the soul of Rodrigue Achilles Fraldarius.”_

Felix swipes the match. His right eye squeezes shut; pain has flared through it, combining with a headache now beginning to form. But he doesn’t gasp, barely moves from his wince. He cannot do so. And exertion is part of the game for a mage.

The match is hovered over the candle on his right. His chest is growing tighter.

“ _May Sothis grant him protection. May he cross over.”_

Ashes are once again scattered. Nausea is building, but he pays it no mind. It’s normal. He can do this, he is strong enough—all of his training, throughout all of his life, will come to light in this moment.

“ _Bless these souls with a corporeal form that shall allow my human eye to perceive them. Gift me the ability to speak with the deceased.”_

A third and final match is lit. This time, he almost drops it. He’s beginning to feel breathless, light-headed and has difficulty moving his limbs. But he must. Calmly, he brings the match to the candle in the centre.

“ _Bring them to me. Bring them to the bearer of the Crest of Fraldarius.”_

The fire burns in the final candle. Two things happen the moment it does so. All three flames dance higher, towers of brightness amongst the darkness. Felix coils over with teeth biting his bottom lip to stifle a cry of pain. He’s not sure where this pain is located. It seems to be _everywhere,_ building further and further.

But he hasn’t touched the pentagram, hasn’t made a single sound. He can keep going. Trembling hands reach to the side and pick up the metallic object laid there: the Aegis Shield, passed down to him as his family’s relic, said to shield from evil.

It better do the trick now.

He carefully places it in the centre of the pentagram.Following this, he retrieves a dagger from the inside of his jacket. With a handle of obsidian stone, this too was an absolute nightmare to retrieve. It’s said to be constructed by demons. Felix has no doubt in his mind about it.

Perhaps it needs to be this, to show you are strong enough to fight them.

“ _I bear my resolve. I give proof of my Crest through my own spilled blood.”_

The knife is pulled across his hand. Not too deep; spilling too much is dangerous in itself. Enough for beads of blood to trickle from the cut on his palm, which he hovers above the relic.

Every last drop of blood connecting with that shield sends his head spinning. But he’s strong enough. He has to be.

“ _Let them cross over.”_ Just several more lines, and he will be done. They will be here. “ _Let the_ _m_ _—_ _”_

He screams. His first and last interruption of himself is a scream from the top of his lungs. He topples forward, elbows landing on the pentagram in his attempt to catch himself and smearing it in the process. Pain sears through every cell. The chain of the pendant burns his neck, and he scrambles to tear it away, only vaguely able to perceive how he’s doing absolutely everything wrong.

All he can think about is that pain, this nausea, and the floor spinning wildly beneath him. His arms give way. He falls onto his stomach and pushes the shield away in the process. Eyes forced open, widening at the black smoke filling the room.

Oh, he’s in for it now.

The pain is reducing, but his consciousness fades; little by little, his vision succumbs to darkness.

The last thing he sees is a cloaked figure now standing in the room with him, blurred by dizziness and eyes losing all focus. Their clearest feature is a smirk from pale lips, reflecting from the sheen across the Aegis Shield.

The words, _I wasn’t strong enough,_ are that which haunt him when he can no longer fight the overwhelming fatigue forcing him under.


	2. Ownership

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Any mage who commits the taboo hands their soul over to the demon who intercepts it; in Felix's case, Hubert von Vestra.

Felix’s slumber is filled entirely with blackness, all but for the occasional glow of red. It appears to be eyes watching him, inspecting him, gleaming malevolently. He doesn’t dwell on them. Rather, his rush of fatigue and agony have rendered him without much of a cohesive mind in his sleep.

When he stirs, all sensations return to him. A groan escapes his lips as he attempts to move off the floor. His entire body _hurts._ Tiredness is still pestering him too, and he is slow to process the reason why he feels this way.

He props himself up on his hands and knees. Eyes flicker over the smeared chalk on the floor. It’s slowly coming back to him, although these cohesive thoughts are soon to leave the forefront of his mind when his gaze flickers upwards and lands on a figure standing in front of him.

Perhaps one would not deem this man odd at a glance. Even with a little distance between them, however, Felix can see how unnatural those yellow eyes are the moment he focuses. The man dons a pair of robes. Long, black, detailed in blue. Incredibly similar to what Felix has seen in illustrations of demons.

Around the hem of this man’s robes is a menacing swirl of dark smoke. Felix is certain the feet beneath that flowing material are hovering off the ground.

It’s obvious from the moment Felix takes in his appearance as a whole; he, or perhaps _it,_ is a demon.

“Good morning,” he says. “I dare say you had a nice catnap?”

Felix can do little more than have his mouth drop open. A demon, here— _here,_ in his home. Felix has summoned lesser demons before. But this … Only one with incredible strength can take on a human form this immaculate. The presence of him alone is enough to tell as such.

There’s a smirk on the demon’s face. Knowing, taunting, and Felix is finally hit with a simple realisation: he failed. This demon’s interruption of his summoning is the result of his own weakness.

Shock subsides and develops into clenched fists and a tight jaw.

“Yes, it does appear you are aware of what has occurred,” says the demon. “My name for this form is Hubert von Vestra. You committed the mage’s taboo, and as per the system’s rules, I intercepted your pathetic excuse for a ritual.”

“I _know_ that!” One of Felix’s fists collides with the floor, his body leaning forward. Of course he knows. He, a member of such a renowned family, _would_ understand the consequences of trying to summon the dead, specifically giving their souls a solid body.

They say it happens to everyone who attempts it. Felix has convinced himself that he’s strong enough to be a rare exception.

“There is no need to have a tantrum to _me,”_ Hubert drawls. He seems rather amused by Felix’s behaviour, which urges Felix to get to his feet. Upon doing so, he notices how the demon is much taller than him. “I am simply doing my job. As you should know, tampering with life and death is forbidden among mages. Murder, unless deemed necessary by a greater power; resurrection, or anything resembling as such. You, as one who took an oath, should know of the consequences.”

Felix is silent. A million seething thoughts, words, are flitting through his mind. Less at the demon and more at himself, for one simple reason. He’s weak.

“Now, since you committed this taboo, you are now destined to be sent to hell once you die. As well as this, due to me kindly taking on the task of intercepting your ritual,” one corner of Hubert’s mouth tilts upwards, “a contract has automatically been created between us, and that poor soul of yours is now mine. I apologise for being a bearer of bad news.”

“Shut _up,”_ Felix snaps. “I know that.”

“If you knew that would happen, why did you do this at all, you stupid human?”

“Because I thought I’d be strong enough.”

Hubert chuckles, shaking his head. “That is what they all say, yet everyone single one of you end up exactly like this. A failure, weak.”

“Yeah? You don’t exactly seem all that powerful yourself.”

He’s bluffing—the sheer amount of demonic energy falling thick over the room suffocates him. This amuses Hubert, who lifts an eyebrow. There’s a pause. It appears as though it’s not because Hubert does not know what to say, but rather that he’s enjoying the situation, his eyes flickering over Felix with curiosity.

“You sure are amusing,” he finally says. “Rather than let yourself be taken by fear, you are simply annoyed, and are unafraid to show that. One might say it is idiocy, however … As foolish as it is for a mere human to not be fearful of me, I cannot deny that I am impressed.”

“There’s nothing to be impressed over,” Felix spits. Those words usually tend to his pride. Now, when all he can dwell on is his lack of success, they only frustrate him further. “I wasn’t successful.”

“Of course you were not successful, it is impossible for a mage to conjure the souls of the dead,” Hubert sneers.

Felix doesn't listen. “I’m going to train and try again.”

“Are you insane?”

“Call me that if you like. But I’m not going to back down from this so easily. You’re free to do what you want as I train to try this all again.”

Hubert is staring at him. So quick and witty with words, yet rendered unable to use them. Eventually, however, he chuckles, folding his arms with a shake of his head.

“Foolish,” he says. “Absolutely foolish. You are aware that I can drag you straight down to hell as we speak, now I own your soul? I cannot kill you myself should I wish to maintain my respectable status, but I'm sure no one would notice if I … Ah, arranged an _accident."_

Those words should frighten him, but they simply don’t. “Then do it. This is my purpose, now. If I can’t do it, I don’t need to stay here. But as long as I _am_ on Earth, then I’m going to get stronger. Do whatever you want.”

Hubert’s lips curl back into a smirk. It almost makes Felix want to punch him, although he knows this may not go down well. Assuming he can even land a hit. “‘Whatever I want,’ you say? In that case, I think I will stick around and watch you. I believe it would provide some entertainment.”

“Are you for real?”

“The two of us are tied together, now,” says Hubert. “Connected, until I decide what I wish to do with your soul. I suppose in the meantime, I can find some enjoyment in watching you fruitlessly try to get stronger.”

Felix shrugs. Nerves may finally be settling in now, imagining a demon staying in his home, although he’s also too far gone to truly care. As long as he can keep fulfilling his duties, none of it matters.

All he cares for is getting stronger. He has to be good enough.

  
  


* * *

  
  


When Felix was younger, he would often find his head in books. Not because he particularly enjoyed reading itself—what he _did_ adore was the actual contents. Learning more about his lineage and power, how he could harness magic in weapons. He simply found it so _cool_ that he might be able to conjure some lightning in a sword, one day. Even the idea of manipulating elements alone was fascinating to him.

He remembers studying alongside his childhood friends, those of other Crest-bearing families which allow them to become mages. Felix would try and learn something new from those sessions before showing his father and brother later on. Humans do not start developing their magic for real until they turn thirteen, however there was enough magic in him to show his family tiny developments.

He still remembers their reactions. How his big brother would tease him, and even if this would bring on Felix’s crybaby tears, he still knew it was in good nature and to encourage him, always followed by a ruffle of his hair and being told to keep it up.

His father would sometimes compare Felix’s progress to Glenn’s when the latter had been the same age, although he was still supportive as well, happily monitoring Felix and giving him all the guidance he needed. He knew that this world was fascinating to Felix. It is for most children, although Felix especially has always had a determination to prove himself.

“ _There are two main things you must remember,”_ Rodrigue would say on occasion. “ _Firstly, mages are hidden from general society. We protect them from the shadows. It can be a lonely life, to grant the world so much protection only for them to not have a single clue about your accomplishments. But we do not do what we do for praise; we do it because that is our role in this world, to keep the order in balance.”_

With this, Felix has had no problems. He enjoys flaunting skills, but it only really matters to other mages—regular humans cannot truly comprehend magic, even see it. He plays his role and earns his own self satisfaction along the way.

“ _The second is the existence of demons. I will one day explain more about them to you, but for now, know that you must never give them the opportunity to obtain your soul. Even death is better than this, for when you die with your soul intact, you’ll either be sent to heaven or reincarnated, whichever proves to be best for your fate. Unless, that is, you commit atrocities worthy of being sent to hell. Though I doubt you would ever do something like that."_

With this … well. Considering his eyes are now fixed on one of several books open on his desk, and Hubert is still lurking in the corner like some annoying monster during sleep paralysis, he cannot say he has listened as closely as he should have.

“You do know this will not work.”

“Yeah? Watch me.”

Hubert lets out a sigh. Felix feels those demonic eyes avert away from him, and he knows it’s because Hubert inspects the books around Felix. “You will not be able to find anything on how to banish me in some books. I am much too powerful.”

“I don’t know until I try.” Felix pauses, before flicking to another page; the paper is yellowed, almost orange, crinkled with age. “I _could_ try the ritual again while you’re here, once I’ve trained myself more. But your presence is annoying me, and I don’t know if that evil energy of yours would interfere or not.”

He’s slowly adjusting hours later, after he could finally get his aching body to move after the ritual. He has a knack for adapting to any situation. However, several hours is certainly far from enough for him to grow immune to Hubert’s aura. It’s still heavy on his chest, making him light-headed. He wonders how much worse it would be if he goes to hell.

He has no time for journeys to other dimensions as it is.

“So your plan is to banish me? You are aware that the contract cannot be destroyed by merely sending me back, yes?”

Felix grumbles, turning a page over perhaps much too roughly. “Well, at least you won’t be in my way for a while. Do you ever shut up?”

“Yes, often. I am not all that sociable. It is simply amusing to bother you.”

“Fantastic.”

Felix breathes out. As much as he’s not shown it through his words or expression … Yes, he might have found something here. He hopes. The sooner he gets this over with, the better. Surely a demon needs some time to recover from a forced banishment spell? Even if it’s merely a day or two, at least Felix would be able to train in peace for a while.

“What would you even need my soul for, anyway?” he says, eyes creased with the concentration it requires to both speak and focus on a ritual at once. “That’s never truly specified in any teachings, other than how it’s naturally not a good situation, and that demons have ill intent.”

“That is because demons are as varied as humans are,” says Hubert. “We all have our own personalities, you know. So one might enjoy different uses for a soul than others. Adding a soul to their army, torturing them, sexual gratification, consuming them … Why, there are all kinds of ways a demon might use a soul.”

“Sounds lovely,” says Felix. “What’s on the menu for me?”

“That, I am still unsure. I have been rather lucky to obtain a Fraldarius.”

“Huh.” This is genuinely a surprise to Felix, sarcasm easing from his voice. “You know who I am.”

“Of course I do, foolish human. I own your soul—I would, at the very least, know your lineage. And what a strong lineage it is.”

“Strong indeed, because it’s ready right under your nose.”

Felix gets to his feet, clicking his fingers. A piece of chalk drops onto the ground. Hubert’s expression doesn’t change, although he does drop his eyes to his feet, where a chalked pentagram is now drawn against the wooden floor.

“Ah, you silenced the chalk you were using,” he says. “Clever. I imagine you take pride in stealth.”

“It’s why I’ve managed to stay alive this long.” Felix tosses salt onto the pentagram. White light spurts upwards from the outer ring, containing Hubert inside. Felix’s hands come together. “ _Goddess, grant me the power to banish this evil.”_

“Your pronunciation of the ancient tongue is decent, too,” says Hubert, unbothered as he stares at the light above him. “Although perhaps my standards of mages are too low, if this is what I am inclined to acknowledge.”

“ _Send him back from whence he came. Allow me to—_ _”_

Felix’s mouth drops open as a wave of Hubert’s hand brushes away the chalk and salt on the floor. The demon remains on the spot, still not fazed at all and letting out a chuckle.

“My, did you really believe this would work? Your skills are decent, yes, but you are … what, a twenty-three year old human? Against a demon who has unleashed terror for centuries.”

“Shut _up,”_ Felix spits out. He’s not used to so many failures in a row, although even he can admit that he’s not going to be able to do anything here. “Fine. Stay here. See if I care.”

“You must care very much, should you have such strong intentions on banishing me.”

“As long as you don’t interfere in my training, do whatever you want,” says Felix. “All that matters is trying again, and again, until I’m finally strong enough to complete the taboo.”

“Foolish. So incredibly foolish. You are aware that I am able to take you to hell whenever I please?”

“Absolutely. That gives me all the more reason to improve on my magic as soon as possible, so I can complete this before you can even think of taking me from this realm.”

Hubert chuckles, shaking his head. “You are certainly odd. I shall observe this behaviour for a while longer. I hope I am welcome in the meantime.”

“Be my guest.”

Felix turns his head away from Hubert, eyes cast down at his books again. More … he needs more. More power, more resolve, more mental fortitude. He knows of his fate; he will not be able to shake this demon off him, even if he will continue to try. But fate aside, so long as he can complete this goal, it doesn’t matter. It’s not as though he would have been allowed into heaven anyway, contract with a demon or not.

In his eyes, the blood of his family is on his own hands, and that’s great of a reason as any to not let him inside those golden gates.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again for reading, I hope you're enjoying the story! Their dynamic is fun to write.


	3. Consequences

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The ritual, Hubert's presence and Felix's excessive training begin to weigh down on him.

Felix has been remembering them more than ever, lately.

Firstly, his brother. How varied of a person Glenn had been. Full of snark, sass, always wanting to prove how strong he was. But he was also the most devoted brother Felix could have asked for. The two would constantly train together, Glenn always there to give Felix advice. He’d tell stories as well. Those of legends, real life mages, fictional worlds he would conjure from thin air.

Felix would be tucked into bed at night whilst Glenn told him these. They would gift him dreams. Wonderful, exciting dreams tantamount to watching movies in his sleep. They would make him imagine a future where he could be an awesome mage like his brother, go on missions, prove his strength.

Sometimes, he would cry when he felt as though he was not strong enough. He cried over many things back then. Although Glenn would initially tease, he would always be there by Felix’s side in the end, to give him reassurance and remind him that he is on the right path.

It was comforting at the time. Before long, however, this sentiment would prove baseless to Felix. He cannot be on the right path, after all, if he had been the reason for Glenn to die.

It’s difficult to say if that fated day itself drove Felix and his father apart, or if it was all that came after. Surely Rodrigue must have had some level of animosity at Felix? Blamed him for what happened? Instead of telling Felix this, however, his words had been filled with praise for Glenn.

“ _He died a hero’s death to save his brother.”_

Felix despised such a sentiment. How much Rodrigue dared to shrug off Glenn’s death by calling it that of a hero. Perhaps these days, Felix understands that it had not all been because of his ideals and hatred for chivalry that brought on this fury at his father. Perhaps he had wanted to be blamed all along.

Either way, it doesn’t matter. Not when Rodrigue died himself two months ago. It will only matter if Felix gets to see them again.

There is so much for him to say, that which cannot wait until death. He’s not certain they will be given the same fate in the afterlife. Waiting is simply not possible.

And conjuring them now is not supposed to be possible, either. But he is determined to fight against all odds.

  
  


* * *

  
  


Felix finds himself constantly alternating between studying and training. The two go hand-in-hand, after all. He polishes his knowledge and physically trains with that he cannot learn by merely reading a book.

There are many aspects to training as a mage: your Crest, that which gifts you with your magic; your ability to use magic itself and all areas existing within it; spellwork, utilising ingredients, rituals; combat and all the weapons one may use in it. Although Felix hones in on that which is important for his rituals, he takes time to practice other areas as well. In his eyes, becoming stronger overall is vital as well in partaking in this ritual. The better he himself can become, the more chance of success.

Or at least, this is what _he_ believes. Hubert scoffs at the very subject.

“Well done, you can wield a sword,” he says as Felix lands on the balls of his feet, conjured lightning crackling around his sword. “I would _love_ to know how this is supposed to help you conjure souls.”

Felix rolls his eyes. “I would expect a demon to understand. I want to take time to train myself elsewhere, to become as strong as can be. Besides, my life isn’t on pause. I still have to carry out my work and cannot become rusty.”

“Yes, I have been rather surprised you would leave me here as you go and do your little mage duties.” Hubert peers around the room; the two are currently in an indoor hall designed for training. “You trust me in your manor alone?”

“What are you going to do, steal some eighteenth century vases?”

“Look at photo albums, perhaps.” Hubert smirks. “I was curious over how much it would irritate you. You seemed to be quite the crybaby.”

Irritating Felix is clearly his goal; Felix keeps his expression and voice blank to not give him that satisfaction. “Whatever. I don’t mind. I don’t even want this place, so you could do what you like with it.”

“Not a good way to honour the dead you are wishing to see.”

“Well, I’m not honouring them any more by giving you my soul in the first place.” Felix glances at the clock. “I should get back to the library.”

“You truly are going through a lot of effort for something which is futile,” says Hubert, watching as Felix wipes at his face with a towel. “Why do you do this when you know you will fail time and time again?”

Felix gives the shortest possible answer. “Because I want to chastise them, above all else.”

He notices Hubert’s eyebrow rising. “The humans who died?”

“My father and brother, yes. I want to ask why they’ve not even tried haunting me as ghosts, how they were weak enough to die in the first place. I can’t do all that if they’re dead.”

The temporary silence is satisfying. “You are most certainly a curious human. Although I can tell that this is not the full answer.”

“Well, unless you can mindread, you’re not getting it.” Felix finishes up returning the weapons he has used back in their rightful places. His steps take him out of the room, Hubert silently following. An idea arrives in Felix’s mind.

It’s likely not going to be as serious of an attempt as what he has tried before, however …

“Ah, you’re trying this again.” Hubert glances down at the chalk drawing a pentagram at his feet. Felix scoffs, although is smirking in mild amusement as he clicks his fingers and causes the chalk to drop down on the floor.

“Just wanted to see if you’d notice,” says Felix. “Banishing you back to hell is hardly my priority, but it would be fun to achieve.”

And it is a distraction from the full answer Hubert has referenced. What _is_ the complete truth, in regards to why Felix wants to see his family again so desperately? Perhaps he is not even certain himself. All he knows is that he misses them greatly. Even Rodrigue, with how strained their relationship became in the end. He believes it is the little things he misses the most, that which you take for granted. Perhaps hearing laughter. Seeing their smiles.

There may not be a long answer. It may be as simple as this: he misses them enough to happily fail time and time again, no matter the toll, so long as he gets to see them.

  
  


* * *

  
  


Their words drone in his ears. They always do to a degree, perhaps because there are a number of people here who spout the same insufferable nonsense his father had. Today, however, as he sits in a meeting room with a number of other highly ranked mages, he finds he is paying attention even less than usual.

“I personally believe that the people’s safety is more important than the slight risk of a non-magic user stumbling upon us,” says the voice of Ingrid, a childhood friend. She sits to Felix’s right; to his left, Sylvain. The trio usually remain close together. It’s hard to imagine, however, that there was a time when the three of them, along with a fourth, ever had their own world. Times change too drastically for such freedom. “It would be best to send efficient numbers over to subdue the influx of demons.”

“It’s downtown anyway, right near some nightlife,” Sylvain adds. “Much more likely to have anyone passing by be intoxicated. They’re _clearly_ setting up some kind of base there.”

Ingrid nods. “Exactly. I believe it is more ideal to take them down as soon as possible, even with the risks, for more lives are only going to be harmed if we allow the demons to grow in numbers.”

“With all due respect …”

The voice of a man who is not either of his childhood friends causes Felix’s mind to drift off again. Or less drift off, and more simply … not focus on anything at all. In fact, he’s rather light-headed, strangely fatigued. Enough for the voices around him to appear that little louder.

Goddess, how he wishes they could simply quieten, in order for him to finally get some sleep.

“More would likely end up seeing supernatural elements at all if there’s, I don’t know, some sort of demon party going on,” says Sylvain. “Felix, back me up here.”

“Right. Yeah.” He straightens up, shaking his head mentally to bring him back into the moment. “I agree. If the results of an attack did have a rather intense effect on the mind of a human, we can always alter their memory as well. I understand it’s a last resort, however it is much more efficient than having to do so to more people, should the demons lingering there end up causing chaos.”

“Precisely this,” says a woman from the opposite end of the table. It takes Felix a moment to process how she is Mercedes, another friend. “Sometimes we must take risks. Keeping our identities hidden from the general public is important, however it is not more important than human life.”

“Yes … yes, I do see your point. In this case …”

Felix knows he has to pay more attention, however his main focus is on simply not closing his eyes as the rest of the meeting transpires. He answers when called on. Aside from this, however, not a single word leaves him—luckily, he is not often one to speak openly in meetings as it is.

No one pays him any special attention but Sylvain, Ingrid and Mercedes once this is all over. Perhaps the way he has to get himself to his feet by hands on the table is a clear worry.

“Felix, you look exhausted,” says Sylvain. “Are you all right?”

“Yeah. Fine.” If Sylvain’s image blurring, the world spinning a little, is deemed as ‘fine.’

“I hope you are not falling ill,” adds Mercedes, reaching the back of her hand to his forehead; he gently pushes it back.

“No, it’s fine. Really.” Now she mentions it, he does feel rather sick … It’s probably just tiredness.

“You better not be overworking yourself again,” says Ingrid. “You … you did that a fair amount when Glenn passed. And your father—”

“How many times do I have to say that _I’m fine?!”_ He lifts a messenger bag and places it heavily on the table, perhaps forcing belongings inside a little too violently. So the topic of his father is still touchy for him, it appears. “I just didn’t get much sleep. That’s all.”

“I didn’t mean to pry, Felix,” says Ingrid.

“We just worry, that’s all,” says Sylvain. “That’s what friends do, right? How many times have you lectured me before?”

A pause. Though Felix smiles with amusement as he zips up his bag, it is soon to fade. “True. Still, there’s no need to worry over me.”

None of it really matters, so long as he gets stronger. Sacrifices have to be made. And it’s not as though he’s in an utterly dreadful state where he can barely walk. The exertion is simply catching up, and for good reason. Perhaps a night off will put him back on track.

After exchanging farewells with his friends, Felix heads on home. His mind wanders whilst he’s in the taxi. It has been a few weeks already, and he cannot say if he’s made progress. He has not yet dared to try the ritual a second time. If all of his preparation beforehand was not enough, some extra weeks are hardly going to make a difference.

At the very least, though Hubert is still lingering like a pesky shadow, he’s powerful enough of a demon to remain of his own volition and with his own power; Felix doubts he could even stand if he was _also_ keeping a demon conjured for this long as well. He believes that Hubert remaining there isn’t contributing much. He’s grown accustomed to that demonic energy despite it still affecting him.

Although perhaps Felix’s insistence that he tries to send Hubert back to hell isn’t helping matters, either … After this long, with Hubert merely observing Felix, the latter sees little need in sending Hubert back. Perhaps it is useless pride by this point. Trying to prove himself, even, for if he cannot banish a demon back to hell, no matter if this demon is powerful, then he will surely not have the power to conjure spirits. No one has told him this but himself. It’s true that you are your own worst critic.

His continuous mental debates do not help matters. By the time he finally makes it inside his home, closing the door after himself, his legs buckle underneath him. Heavy breaths, a hand resting on the wall. He almost expects a maid to come running towards him. They did so all those years ago, panicking when he would have a fall and burst into tears.

Except they’re no longer here, aside from weekly visits which Felix generously pays for; ever since Rodrigue passed away, he cannot stand others being here with him.

There’s nothing but that demon’s voice.

“What on _earth_ have you done to yourself now?”

“Nothing,” Felix mutters. His spare hand holds his head, trying to adjust to this level of dizziness. His gaze flickers up at the robed figure which has materialised in front of him. “Just tiredness.”

He thinks he notices Hubert rolling his eyes. “You are almost as pale as I am. Clearly, you are working yourself half to death. You humans do not have the same capability as demons.”

“Congratulations for noticing.” Felix tenses his legs, hand pressing harder against the wall. He only manages to push himself into a crouching position. That is still something, at least.

He blinks at the outstretched hand in front of him. “Seeing you on the floor this way is a rather pathetic sight,” says Hubert. “Come. Get to your feet.”

“I’m not accepting the hand of some _demon. Hey!_ Hold on—” Shadows have conjured around his lower body, lifting him up to bring him to his feet. “I did _not_ say you can do that!”

“No, but you would have exerted yourself stupidly. Look at you—my magic is keeping you on your feet.”

“I just needed a moment.” Felix’s eyes narrow at Hubert. The latter’s face is as blank as ever, however … “What is with you? I thought you’d enjoy seeing me on the floor.”

“So would I. Perhaps I felt pitiful.” A pause, which is rather rare for Hubert—or at least, is as such with the expression he now bears. His moments of silence are usually to observe or to watch in amusement. Now, however, he appears mildly confused, if the slight crease of his eyebrows is anything to go by. “You have spent every waking hour—which, I have noticed, are most of the hours in your day—training and, sometimes, eating. You’re overworking yourself deeply. Continuous attempts at sending me to hell are likely not assisting.”

“Did you read a book on humans before arriving?”

“Demons know far more about you than you may think.” Hubert shrugs, hands either side of him. “Refuse to listen, if that is what you wish. However, do not come crying to me if you throw yourself in a hospital bed due to your incompetence in taking care of yourself.”

Felix is silent. It makes no difference to Hubert if Felix harms himself or not. Either way, Felix is going to die, and his soul will be left behind for the taking. _How_ he dies makes no difference. There is truly not a single reason for Hubert to try to help, no matter how much this is given in a passive manner.

It’s almost as though …

“Fine. I guess I’ll go rest. No looking at more of my baby pictures whilst I’m gone.”

… he cares. Although such a thought is laughable when the two are in such opposite worlds, there is no possible way for them to understand one another.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and comments appreciated if you enjoyed! Thanks for reading.


	4. A Smile

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Felix has been growing closer to Hubert; on the flipside, his condition is worsening.

A realisation dawns on Felix one day, when he is researching methods for more strenuous rituals. He actually knows little about demons.

From a personal viewpoint, at least. Mages are taught about the basics of demons at a young age. They are given constant reminders that despite how demons are part of the balance alongside angels and humans, a necessary gear in the machine that is existence, they are still not trustworthy. Troublemakers and apathetic by heart.

Felix has never been able to view this through a demon’s perspective. Lesser demons are often mischievous and will not hold such a conversation. Not to mention that conversations are hardly something Felix has been able to have; mages will only speak to demons if it is necessary.

This, however … Naturally, he has never had a demon own his soul before. He’s been ignoring it. He can acknowledge Hubert’s presence enough without dwelling on his troublesome situation. But it does grant him the opportunity to be by a demon’s side, something he has never done before.

It’s … No, he would despise calling it enjoyable. It is simply not without minor benefits.

“You want me to talk to you about what it is like to be a demon?”

Felix nods, flicking over a page. “I think I deserve that much, when you have been dwelling in my home rent-free.”

Hubert chuckles. The sound is … more natural, than other chuckles he has released. Less filled with wicked intent. “A fair point. How much do you know about demons?”

“Well, no more than any other mage, really. You exist as part of the balance. Giving due punishment to necessary souls, assisting with reincarnation. All part of the cycle of life, as well as good and evil.”

“So the basics a child would know.”

Felix closes his book with a huff. “Of course there are more specifics. However, we mostly know about the demons we have to deal with, when they cross over and stir up trouble. It’s not as though I know how you spend your Tuesday mornings or whatever.”

“We do not have mornings, for one thing.” Hubert glances up at the ceiling, as though envisioning hell's sky in its place. “Perpetual night … Or darkness, more specifically. It’s quite relaxing.”

“I bet.”

“Is there anything you wish to know?”

“I don’t know. Anything.” Amber eyes glance down at the books around him. Several contain information on demons—often times, they grant him the reminder that Felix's soul is not in his own hands anymore, but rather Hubert's. “Honestly, the books are … biased. They acknowledge the need for your existence, but away from that, speak of you in a negative light. You are troublemakers who always wish to stir up trouble.”

This doesn’t insult Hubert; rather, he smirks. “I would expect as much. To a point, they are possibly accurate. Demons, after all, _are_ statistically more likely to disrupt the balance. Although those books of yours would likely fail to mention that angels have caused trouble as well.”

“... Yeah. They do,” Felix admits. “Probably because we humans should aspire to have our souls, one day, rest in heaven.”

“And not become angels?” Hubert’s head tilts to the side slightly. Genuine curiosity, not that used when mocking Felix. “Interesting.”

A moment of silence. Felix is comprehending the meaning behind those words. “ _Become_ angels?” asks Felix. “All we’re told is that our souls can either be reincarnated or sent to heaven or hell.”

“How else do you believe angels and demons come to existence?” Hubert asks. “Did they merely appear out of thin air?”

“Well, there _has_ been speculation that our souls can become them. But there are no real facts.” Nowhere in these books on the table in front of Felix, no scrap of information giving clear detail on those who supposedly keep all realms alive. He’s not certain why. Perhaps the information was simply never passed on. “So demons and angels alike are created from souls?”

“Yes. By the time a soul has reached this stage, they likely forget all their human lives. After all, there are two specifications. Angels arise from pure souls who are deemed ready to become one. Meanwhile, yours truly,” Hubert gestures a hand to himself, “would be created from a soul who cannot, or even simply does not want to, be redeemed.”

Felix’s eyes inspect Hubert for a moment. Over the common smirk on his pale face, a stance brimming with confidence, an acceptance of the life he has been given. “And which are you?”

“My, that is akin to asking a woman her age.” Hubert doesn’t appear to be properly offended. His amusement has increased, causing Felix to wonder if this is something he can discover one day. “But yes. Many, many centuries ago, I would have lived my own life as a human.”

“I see. That’s … rather strange to know.”

He wonders what Hubert would be like as a human. Would he be different, the same? The longer the two spend time with one another, the more Felix has to admit that sometimes, he can forget Hubert is a demon. His company is a nuisance. Felix still has his attempts of sending Hubert back to hell. But these days, Felix has grown used to him being there. Admittedly, deep down, he would find it odd if Hubert left.

And it’s nice to have another voice and presence in this large, empty manor Felix can no longer call home.

“Granted, not all demons you face will have once been human,” says Hubert. “Smaller, lesser demons are created from excess demonic mana. Heaven functions similarly, where their angelic mana creates cherubs and similar. Their existence is … admittedly less important to ours. They contribute little to life’s cycle and merely act as a nuisance, despite their role being to assist us.”

“Yeah. They’re usually what I’ve had to deal with myself, when I’m out on the field.” A strange image has popped into Felix’s mind, imagining Hubert having those smaller than him complete orders. He’s can almost see Hubert in an office, ordering secretaries around. “What exactly _do_ you do in hell? I mean, you’ve already not been there in nearly two months. Isn’t that bad?”

“Oh, no, I do go back when I wish to catch up on duties,” Hubert corrects him. Felix’s eyes grow wide. For Hubert to do travel back casually …

“How often do you do that?”

“Usually once per day. Time moves differently in hell; an hour or so is more than sufficient to attend to my work.”

“But that’s … To cross realms, you need a lot of power. Never mind doing so _daily._ ” For the first moment in some time, Felix properly comprehends the demonic power around Hubert.

“Yes. And I have it. Are you aware that I am one of the most prestigious bloodlines?” Hubert chuckles, as though this is a casual matter for him. “Your existence makes it easier. Now we are connected, I can travel to your proximity with considerably less power. Over time, it may grow more difficult, but for now, I can sustain it.”

Wow. This is impressive, Felix has to admit that to himself. Not aloud, but he’s certain Hubert is aware regardless. There’s a knowing expression on his face. One that, against Felix’s better judgement, causes him to smile genuinely.

He’s not sure if this is the first time he has done as such. But this is the first time it would stir something inside him like this.

“So what do you do?” Felix asks eventually. “Office duties?”

“In a way, yes. Alongside the general torture of souls—which yes, I admit can be fun—I also have to monitor those passing over, give my input on those who are waiting to be reincarnated, give out orders … All part of maintaining the system, as I am sure you do yourself. After all, you, as a human mage, have your own duties to assist with troubles of mana and abuse of power.”

“Mm. I suppose in some ways, we are rather similar.”

There’s a smile on Hubert’s face. Perhaps it is genuine as well. It’s difficult to tell, when Felix is certain that Hubert would be a master of manipulation. But those yellowish eyes … Felix has never quite seen so much life in them.

Perhaps they’re not so different after all, with their own lives and roles to play.

  
  


* * *

  
  


Panted breaths and the heels of his shoes echoing on concrete. Alert eyes and navy bangs bouncing off his face. Felix skids to a crouching position around a corner. He finishes tying a scarf around a bleeding arm, yanking it with his teeth to tighten it.

“ _Heh heh! You can’t hide forever!”_

“Assholes,” Felix mutters to himself, hand once again taking hold of a sword. Impractical, one might say. He’s had people tell him that embedding mana in a gun would be miles easier. He simply believes it’s good to stick to the areas you’re skilled in.

He feels it—the mild energy of the demons creeping closer. His grip tightens and he shoots back to his feet. The speed causes his head to spin, but it’s not enough to stop him from swinging the blade and envelope several small, black demons, their appearance similar to miniature gargoyles cloaked in shadow, in a burst of lightning. Screams fill the air.

“You wretched human!”

He ignores the screech. His hands clap together, thrown down onto the ground to create an incantation circle—it’s simple enough to draw in an instant through magic. A flash of blinding light envelopes them. They fade away into nothing, one little essence of shadow at a time.

The back of his hand wipes at his forehead. Something so simple used to have no effect on him, but ever since that damned day …

“ _Felix, you there?”_ says a voice in his ear. He holds his fingers to the earpiece inside it.

“Yeah. Just killed a bunch. Where are you, Lysithea?”

“ _Further towards that restaurant_ _—_ _you know the Duscurian one? They spread out a little. I hate these shadow ones, they’re so_ creepy.”

“I’ll come rendezvous with you now.”

“ _Wait, don’t bother. I think I saw some disappear into the shadows and come your way. Larger ones, too. Must sense your power.”_

“That’s fine,” says Felix, amber eyes scanning the area. “I can take them. Stay safe and stop them from entering any buildings.”

“ _Certainly. Out.”_

Felix lowers his hand. Fatigue has a single perk; when your body is exhausted, he has found that everything around him seems louder than usual, his ears not struggling at all to pick up those sounds. There’s the slightest growl. An animalistic reaction, the demon unable to resist.

“I know you’re there,” says Felix, holding himself in a defensive stance. “Come out!"

A snarl is released this time. Three burst out from the night’s shadows. Larger than the others, a strange silhouette. It doesn’t matter to Felix. He has never been close to falling to one of these before and is certainly not starting today.

He plants the tip of his sword into the ground. Electricity runs through the concrete and shoots towards the demons. Bone-chilling shrieks of pain follow. Felix follows through this attack by sprinting forward, swinging his sword towards the demons. His goal is always to be swift. Take them down before they can do the same to you. Today, however, this has even greater importance. His body is certainly not coping well with exertion, and the sooner he can have this over with, the better.

His left foot swings at a demon on the floor; it had grabbed his right ankle. Another slash of his sword, and another. Swirls of Thunder and Thoron magic illuminate the night. It’s enough to kill two of the demons, although Felix curses under his breath as the third re-enters the shadows.

“ _I can smell it … Demonic energy around you.”_

“Yeah, I have a new roommate at the moment,” says Felix.

“ _A strong demon, no less. Perhaps it would prove my strength by killing any human who is deemed as worthy to be around.”_

Felix swivels around when something shifts in the corner of his eye. He raises his sword, ready to attack, although blinks when he’s stopped in his tracks. A whirl of shadow has wrapped around his forearm.

“Get _off,”_ Felix snarls, tugging his arm away. It’s only a distraction; he’s soon yelling out in pain as shadowed claws swipe at his face. He stumbles. And this time, the shadow is able to pull the sword away.

There’s no time to retrieve it. His hands and legs join in the fray. He tries to focus on the main figure amongst the shadows swirling around him. But his vision is blurring, the world is spinning. His legs might have buckled underneath him if the demonic hadn’t clutched his neck and forced him back into a wall.

“ _You’re_ the renowned Fraldarius?” the demon asks, laughing. “You can barely do anything!”

Faint wisps of white light escape Felix’s fingers. All he can do, however, his grasp on the demon’s arm and try to pull him away. It’s squeezing tighter. Felix gasps for air, feet kicking against the wall behind him. Struggling. Struggling, despite how there’s a small part of him accepting it’s futile.

He shouldn’t have taken this mission on when his body is this fragile. Then again, he has little choice when it’s the norm.

“L-let go,” he wheezes out. His only response is a laugh. It appears distant. The corners of his vision are darkening, head light-headed, chest screaming.

He can’t let himself be beaten, not when there is still so much left to do. _There’s no way I’m dying here,_ he thinks, yet believes those words little. He’s not sure how to save himself. Not when he’s slipping, slipping, the word darkening …

He collapses to the floor, spluttering for air. His hand feels for his now freed neck. He forces his eyes open, expecting to see Lysithea, or anyone else, dragging that demon away from him.

What he doesn’t expect to see is a sight sending goosebumps across his skin. Hubert, stood with dark magic around him, and his eyes glowing brighter than Felix has ever seen them. A snarl is on his face. Pure, unfiltered ragewhen he usually shows little more than mild amusement.

“M-master Vestra,” splutters the demon. “I didn’t—”

Hubert’s raised hand clenches into a fist, and in an instant, the demon disperses into nothing. He turns swiftly towards Felix.

“Do you have a death wish?” he demands. “All this exertion on yourself is worsening, yet look at what you are doing to yourself!”

Felix is too busy catching his breath and trying to steady himself to answer. The moment he tries to do so, he’s yelling from pain, arms wrapping around his body. He feels Hubert approach and crouch next to him.

“W-what’s going on?” Felix gasps out. “I’ve not—”

“You are almost running on empty mana, you utter _fool!_ You are aware that doing this means you move onto your own life, yes? And these demons, their essence is easily able to run through the veins of those who are vulnerable. It’s a way they take you down.”

“They’re not powerful enough to do that to me.”

“Oh yes, because your agonised face does not tell the opposite.”

Felix tries to argue. It’s simply impossible for him to do so. His head falls back against the wall behind him, panting. The world is spinning enough to nauseate him; he closes his eyes to block it out.

“Why is this happening?” he ends up muttering. “It keeps getting worse.”

“You have been trying to cram months, even _years,_ worth of training in little time at all. You are destroying yourself. Humans are such fragile creatures, yet you still do this. I cannot fathom it.”

“I shouldn’t … I …”

Felix doesn’t comprehend he’s fallen until he feels cold concrete against his face. Unconsciousness drawing closer, closer, threatening to swallow him under. He can barely comprehend anything around him, all but for him being lifted from the ground.

“Truly, Felix, you are an irresponsible fool.”

And it is those words Felix barely manages to hear before he’s forced into slumber.

  
  


* * *

  
  


Nightmares. As to be expected, if Hubert’s words are true—that the essence of shadow demons have crept into his very body. They’re the bringer of fear. Knowing how humans so foolishly fear the dark and using it to their full advantage.

The images are not all that clear. They rarely are. For one who has always been quite the lucid dreamer, Felix’s nightmares are usually not so clearcut. They often involve him clawing frantically in overwhelming blackness. Perhaps one of _their_ figures will be there, somewhere, never close enough despite how much Felix runs, reaches out.

Now, he only hears their words, cries, screams, meshing with the screeches and laughter of shadow demons. A song of twisted harmonies.

Despite how the subtle pain he notices whilst asleep quadruplets when he wakes, he is glad that he at least does so to escape those images.

His eyes open, blink. Eyebrows furrow in confusion. The lightness of the room suggests it is the afternoon, but he had been partaking in that mission at night ... Surely it is not possible for him to have slept that long when he merely passed out?

“ _Ah, you are awake at last.”_

Hubert’s voice resounds before he appears in a swirl of black magic. Felix blinks again, still trying to adjust to everything around him. Man, he feels lousy. 

“You brought me home?” is Felix’s first question.

“What else was I supposed to do?” says Hubert. Much like in that alleyway, with the rage which set goosebumps forming across Felix’s skin, there is a strange amount of emotion on the demon’s face. “Leave you there for two and a half days?”

“Well, I appreciate you not doing so.” Felix blinks. “Wait, two and a half days?!”

“That is how long you were out for, yes.”

“That’s—how on Earth did I stay unconscious for that long?” Felix sits up much too abruptly. He winces, a hand shooting to his head. Hubert is closer to his side immediately.

“Would you _please_ be careful? Honestly. You must truly have a death wish after all."

Felix has no answers. He’s frustrated at himself, deep down, for acting so recklessly. That is the job of one of his childhood friends, not him. Apparently this is how he is when pressure weighs down on him. “I guess I really have done too much in such a short space of time.”

“You only notice now?” Hubert releases a sigh. His following action surprises Felix; sitting down on the edge of his bed. Such a simple motion, but one which feels all too casual, human, for this demon usually lurking creepily in a corner. “Though unsuccessful, your ritual still took a great deal of power from you. Then there is all your training, attempts to banish me, existing in my presence all the while … No matter how strong you are, you are only human. And your bodies …” Hubert pauses. When he speaks again, it’s strangely quieter. “I have grown to learn just how weak they truly are. In comparison to myself, anyway.”

The words frustrate Felix, but he cannot argue. He doesn’t have the energy. The resolve. Because really, seeing how Hubert has been functioning, even when he is supposed to be struggling, puts a lot into perspective for Felix.

If _he_ was a demon, perhaps he would not struggle so deeply to speak to his family. But if he _was_ a demon, with all the time it would take to evolve into one, he might also not even care for this family anymore by the time he has enough strength to see them.

Instead of dwelling on such troublesome thoughts, Felix asks, “How did you even come to help me?”

“The two of us are bound by the contract which automatically formed,” says Hubert. “I can sense when your life is in danger. A perk usually existing so I can prepare for the arrival of your soul, _not_ save your blasted life.”

“Why did you save it at all?”

It’s a question only now truly dawning on him. Why would Hubert come to aid him? With _fury_ on his face, no less? It appears the potential answer does not also puzzle Felix. Hubert’s eyes, so seemingly human at this current moment in time, are fixed away from Felix. Confusion is written on his face, however mild it may be.

“I am not certain,” says Hubert at last. “And it is not something I can keep doing, either. Though I appear fine, existing on this dimension for the majority of my time is taking its toll. Slowly, yes, but it may soon have consequences.”

“Then why are you staying at all?” Felix is persistent, needing answers; it … frightens him, almost, to not have them. To not be certain on why Hubert almost seems to care. “You could kill me—”

“Ah, I cannot,” Hubert interrupts. “Well, in theory, killing you would be extremely simple. But the balance of life and death, remember? One cannot interfere. That includes myself.”

“You could still head back to hell. You don’t have to stay here. I imagine that this contract and ownership of my soul means that once I die, I’m sent straight to you?”

“That is correct.”

“So you can wait in hell until my death. I’m sure that my lifetime is tiny in the grand scale of your existence.”

Hubert nods slowly. His eyes are on Felix now. Calculating, almost. It makes Felix uncomfortable, although he cannot tear his own gaze away—he’s perhaps more captivated than he is unsettled. “I could. And I have considered it. But there is something odd about you, Felix. Incredibly odd. Something drawing me in, entertaining me enough that I remain here, rather than opt for the logical option of returning to hell. Peculiar, is it not?”

“Very.” Felix’s voice is barely above a whisper. Those words are causing his heart to beat faster, faster—his hands close into temporary loose fists, a thin layer of sweat on his palms.

“So to continue with this … captivation, I have with you,” says Hubert, “I would prefer for you to not work yourself to death. I will not remain here much longer, so _try_ to stay alive in that time, won’t you?”

Felix isn’t sure why, but something about those words brings an amused smile to his face, even if it’s only there for a moment. Perhaps it is disbelief. Perhaps he is simply high on an array of emotions, that which he has never felt before, confusing him.

“I won’t,” he says. “I shall protect this oh-so-fragile human body of mine, _great_ demonic lord.”

An identical smile finds Hubert’s face as well. It is in this moment that Felix realises something so seemingly small, but impactful at once: having his given name be uttered by a demon who can smile after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter is the last one! I hope you've been enjoying it.


	5. Farewell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Their arrangement cannot last forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is the final chapter! I hope you enjoy.

Whenever humans have told Felix to rest, he often doesn’t listen. It feels as though they are nagging, trying to frustrate him, calling him weak … Anything. He has to admit that he’s had an issue with overworking himself for a long time already. Listening to his friends when they tell him to slow down and take a break is rare. He knows it shouldn’t be, but he doesn’t exactly care enough to change his ways.

But when a _demon_ is the one telling you to rest … Somehow, it makes it seem all the more serious, considering it must say a lot for them to understand that you are harming yourself. It’s enough to encourage Felix to take some time out from his usual routine to recover.

He’s contacted Lysithea, who turned out to receive a message—perhaps Hubert managed to do this somehow. His other friends have also been noted of his condition and requested to stay away. He’s not sure this will be listened to for long before their caring natures take over. For now, however, he’d rather peace and quiet, as well as the lack of lectures from people away from Hubert. Isolation is hardly uncommon for him.

Besides, he cannot stand the thought of them seeing him when he’s so weak, pale-faced, struggling to complete basic tasks—everything that comes with his current condition. All of his exertion has piled up on top of each other, taking him down after an outside source hurt him as well. It takes a week to even be walking around again. Even then, he doesn’t feel the best. And up until that point, no one other than Hubert has been taking care of him. It’s an odd thing for a demon to do. Hubert has said it’s simply part of indulging in his interest in Felix, and that watching him do little but lie in bed is hardly entertaining. Felix isn’t convinced. Or perhaps this is merely wishful thinking on his end, to want Hubert to care after all.

How stupid of a wish this is.

It’s baffling. Up until now, all he has been told is that demons, although as important of an existence as anything else, are not to be trusted. They do not have the same emotions as humans—if any at all, away from greed, rage, pride, lust. Embodiments of sin. And, to a degree, Hubert most certainly does have different emotions to the humans Felix has met until now.

But he’s similar. It may be unsurprising when he had once been human himself. Those moments where something genuine appears on Hubert’s face … Not one of those mocking smirks, but an actual smile. Of amusement, even care.

They cause something to stir inside Felix’s chest. Warm his heart, make him feel almost like a teenager again, when coming to terms with his sexuality. That mixture of fear, uncertainty and yet a strange sense of giddiness as you find out who you are.

It’s not a good sign. Although in the light of everything, perhaps it is only one more small sin for him to commit, possessing no meaning in the grand scheme of life.

* * *

A day filled with greater grief than usual arrives before long. Felix is back on his feet, although is still taking his time with getting back into his duties and training; he’s certain that if he doesn’t, Hubert may actually be the one to kill him instead out of irritation and to get it over with.

And today, this understandable misery, the lack of sleep, follows Felix throughout the day. It goes far from unnoticed by Hubert.

“What is the matter with you?” he asks as Felix settles down to read a book in the library. The voice is mostly monotone, although there’s no denying the slight concern Felix can pick up on. “You seem … low.”

“Yeah. I would be.”

A momentary silence. Hubert settles down in the chair on the opposite side of Felix’s table, which is still a strangely human action for Felix to witness even weeks later.

“I know humans enjoy whining to overcome their misery,” says Hubert.

“Thank you,” says Felix. “So kind.”

“What I mean is that if you wish to talk about what is on your mind, I have little better to do than listen, until I return to hell for a while.”

Felix pauses, wondering if this is a topic he can talk about with Hubert. Ah, well. It’s not as though he has much better to do either. “Five years ago today, my brother died.”

“I see. The brother you wish to speak to, yes?”

“That’s the one. We were close, and I was always striving to be as strong as him. He was a pretty powerful mage, you see.” Felix’s eyes watch the corner of the page his fingers fiddle with. “ _Very_ powerful, I should say. I could never be as strong as him no matter how hard I tried. I still train now, even, as though chasing after his corpse.”

“You never did get to become stronger than him,” says Hubert, Felix humming. “Is this why you are so hyper-focused on training, alongside how you wish to perform the ritual?”

“I … I guess. Probably. My friends say that I get too obsessed, sometimes.” There’s a pause, Felix’s tongue running over his lips; they seem dry, all of a sudden. “I don’t think I have much use or worth away from being strong.”

“That is a rather unhealthy mindset,” Hubert says. It’s so blunt that it earns a chuckle from Felix, even if humourless.

“Yes. But that is my reality, as the remaining Fraldarius. Who has now fucked up the rest of the family line as well.” Felix stares down at the book, no words entering his mind. “I suppose another reason I train so much is because it’s my fault that Glenn died.”

“Your fault?”

“We were on a mission together. The Fraldarius brothers, together? Of course it would all go perfectly.”

Felix’s voice has quietened. It’s nothing he hasn’t said before. But every time these words exit his lips, they grasp tightly at his chest. He struggles to breathe. Speak. Because no matter how much those who care for him will reassure him, will look out for him, they will never be able to convince his mind otherwise: that Glenn’s blood is on his hands.

“But it didn’t. I was careless, overconfident because I had made so much progress back then, others praised for how strong I was for an eighteen-year-old mage. And it almost killed me. I took on too much on that mission, thought I could fight against a demon much stronger than me. The only reason it _didn’t_ kill me was because Glenn got in the way of its attack.”

“And died instead.”

A statement, not a question; the truth is obvious. Felix’s head leans down, shoulders hunched over. His fingers crease the page between them. There’s a pain in his throat as though he might cry, which is pathetic when it has already been five years since that day.

Although perhaps those images will never leave him. Of the demonic claws plunging into his brother’s chest, the aching of Felix’s throat as he screamed, scrambling for him, sobbing and wishing the Goddess would grant him a single gift: to turn back time by even seconds, and change everything.

But life isn’t that merciful. It only gave Felix the option to hold Glenn close to him and scream into that bloodied chest.

“Father didn’t blame me,” he says. “But he didn’t make me feel any better by saying I should be proud of that death. It was noble, to save my life, and that sacrifice should push me on to become even better. I—I understand this was a comfort to my father, for Glenn to have died like this, rather than in a so-called ‘shameful’ way. But it tore me apart from him.”

“Yes, I can see why,” says Hubert. His words are slightly quiet, more so than they usually are for him. Body leaned forward a little, as though listening to every word. “From the perspective of a demon, this idea of deaths meaning something if they are noble is useless. There is only a slim chance the way you choose to die will impact your fate in the afterlife—what if one allowed themselves to die for another to simply be granted access to heaven or reincarnation? No matter how that person dies, what comes after remains the same, and the loved ones left behind will have to suffer and mourn either way.”

Felix nods slowly. Perhaps it is strange, to have his own beliefs align with how a demon thinks. Although he does know that their personalities vary as much as humans’ do. The same might apply to their beliefs as well.

“Exactly. To me, all I had was a lost brother. I didn’t care exactly _how_ I lost him. Well, aside from being the reason he died.”

“I disagree with that.” Felix’s eyes flicker back up to Hubert. “Your lives are constantly in danger on the job, are they not? Fights are unpredictable, regardless of if you were overconfident or not. The results might have been the same either way. There is little productivity in overthinking it.”

“I … I guess. I try and think that way.” Felix’s words leave him awkwardly; he’s not sure on how to react to Hubert almost seeming to comfort him, other than how it brings some warmth to his chest. “But even now, I’m still not moving on from Glenn. Father’s death hasn’t helped. I need to speak to them.”

“To say what?”

They have discussed the matter before, but only briefly. Hubert has likely known all this time how Felix has hidden the truth, behind the pretence of how he has to berate them for dying. Reality is filled with much greater anguish.

“I blame myself as well for father’s death,” says Felix. “He might have not died, had I gone on an important mission with him. As the one responsible for their deaths, I feel as though I must apologise. I must prove myself through my strength.”

A silence has fallen. Such a thing is rare without a smirk on Hubert’s face, where said silence is for Hubert to merely watch, observe and judge; now, Felix would even deem that frown as the demon being uncertain on what to say.

Yellow eyes, feeling more human as time goes on, which seem to be processing his thoughts. Questioning something. Felix finds his heartbeat has increased whilst waiting.

“I suppose I should finally be honest, now I no longer find amusement in watching your efforts, after how much it harmed you,” says Hubert. “There is no ritual to give physical forms to spirits.”

“What?” A single word, although a number of thoughts flashing in his mind in an instant.

“It is a rumour to entice those who would dare go against the word of the Goddess. I should reword this; there is no ritual that _you_ alone can perform. Only those who have been granted this power, or half-angels and half-demons, can successfully complete this ritual. The wording is vague behind the taboo. As you yourself have proven, the word ‘impossible’ is certainly not enough to stop you. But it is reality that truly, without a higher power, you cannot bring spirits over.”

Felix is silent. His million thoughts have seemed to disappear, almost, left with uncertainty on how he should feel. “A higher power?”

“Angels and demons with enough power, or gods and devils.”

“Could you—”

“Not yet. Perhaps in the future.”

Felix stares down at the book in front of him. His throat aches, but he’s not sure if he wants to cry. It’s not even as though he feels he has wasted time. Or at least, he doesn’t care if he has done so. He would have in one way or another in order to bear grief.

Deep down, he might have even known it was all futile anyway.

“I suppose that contracts immediately forming between demons and humans is punishment,” says Felix eventually.

“Indeed. In the eyes of the Goddess, there is no greater punishment than having your fate be decided by a demon’s hand.”

Felix finds himself shrugging. The slightest smile of amusement has even appeared on his face. “Ah, well. It’s not been so bad.”

A strange sense of nerves, giddiness, finds its way into Felix when Hubert smiles back. Genuinely, somehow bringing warmth to that greyed skin. “I agree. There is also one thing I can tell you, as … let us say an apology, for hiding this truth from you. Even if you had the power, I am not sure you would be able to contact them regardless. They strike me as the type to ‘move on’.”

“Move on?”

“Not linger as spirits in heaven. They both had fulfilling lives, and your brother especially accepted he had done all he wanted. They have likely already been reincarnated.”

It should upset Felix. To know that all his training has been for naught, that either way, he would not be able to see them again. It does a little. His heart aches and bursts with the yearning to speak to them again, hear their voices.

All he wants, however, is for them to be happy. That is what he has come to realise. If this joy can only be brought to them by allowing them to move on, perhaps this is something Felix needs to accept. He has to simply hope to see them in another life.

“I hope my father returned as a slug,” says Felix, to which Hubert laughs, a sound which causes Felix’s heart to soar and be hit with a simple realisation: he has feelings for this demon.

  
  


* * *

  
  


A harsh reality has been falling on Felix: he will never be able to recover completely should he remain in Hubert’s presence.

Though he himself has grown accustomed and can ignore that dark entity when speaking to him, it still has an impact on Felix’s body; considering Felix is not controlling Hubert with the same method mages can use on lesser demons, he feels that presence as though Hubert were a demon invading his home, there to harm him.

Originally, all Hubert had been was an intrusion. Now Felix sees him as someone welcome in his life. It is simply not possible, however, for it to be this easy.

Even though he knows now that building his strength for an impossible ritual is pointless, he doesn’t want to stop gaining strength. Time will tell if he will ever stop chasing after a corpse. But even without this, his pride lies in the magic he has developed, and he’s certain he would never be satisfied with himself in general should he not become the best he can be.

He cannot prioritise strange, fleeting emotions over what has driven him for so long. It doesn’t matter if his afterlife is one other mages would not approve of; his current life is his focus. He doesn’t want to waste it, no matter how difficult it is to endure.

There’s an answer to these struggles, one he wishes to not speak of, causing Hubert to do so first.

“I believe I should return to hell. Permanently.”

Felix’s eyebrows furrow. His eyes are fixed away from Hubert, on the horizon stretched beyond the Fraldarius household’s gardens. A sunset filled with colours expressing a whole list of emotions. Anger, passion, joy.

“I’ve wondered the same,” says Felix. His voice is quiet. “Is it affecting you to be here?”

“I still have time before the consequences would be greater. But I am not the only one enduring effects.” A pause. “I have to admit you impress me.”

Felix scoffs. “Impress you? For getting such bad burnout I passed out for two and a half days?”

“Your resolve. No matter the reasoning behind it, you always strive to become stronger. Your determination surprised me when we first met. How you were not mad at me, but rather yourself for thinking you were not strong enough. And it is reality that my presence is impacting this.”

“I know.” Felix exhales a deep breath, eyes casting downwards; his eyes do not see what is in front of him, but rather memories from all that has transpired. The first smiles, laughter. An unlikely bond different to that forced between them. “I’ve become accustomed to you. But no matter what, your entity will affect me.”

“Precisely. And I do not wish to tamper with your goals and aspirations. The future is unclear for you now I own your soul, and your life now is yours to live. I wish for you to do everything you wish before the day you pass away.”

These words finally cause Felix to meet Hubert’s gaze. So much thoughtfulness that Felix would have never expected on the day they met. “What will happen after?”

“Your death, you mean?”

“Yes.”

“I do not plan on torturing you, if that is of concern.” A flicker of amusement appears on Hubert’s face, before it fades and is left with a strangely forlorn expression. “Perhaps it will simply be nice to have a companion.”

“I can do that. Though I’m not the most polite of companions.”

“I would not have it any other way.”

Felix smiles himself. A strange surge of confidence, of a need for contact, overcomes him; he takes one of Hubert’s hands into his own. The skin is as cold as death, but to Felix, may as well be brimming with the warmth of the sun.

“I suppose, then, we’ll either meet if you decide to pop by, or after I have died,” he says. “And whatever happens, happens.”

“Simply going through the motions,” says Hubert in agreement.

Hubert’s spare hand has reached for Felix’s face. Such a surprisingly gentle touch. The two move in unison; Hubert’s head leaning down, Felix rising on his toes. Their lips meet in a kiss.

It’s slow. Tender. Brimming with the sadness Felix imagines is building in Hubert’s heart as well, of the knowledge that separation will follow this.

It is no surprise that saltiness soon mingles in with the kiss. Felix backs away quickly, an arm wiping at his eyes.

“You should head off. I’m not the best at goodbyes.”

“Nor am I.” Out of the corner of Felix’s eye, he notices Hubert move, as though tempted to reach out yet stopping himself part of the way. Instead, he adds, “We’re destined to meet again, so perhaps saying farewell is pointless.”

“Mm. Exactly.”

“I will be seeing you soon then, Felix Hugo Fraldarius.”

Felix’s eyes close when blackness envelopes Hubert, leaving nothing in his place. Fresh tears fall when they open, staring at the sunset beyond. He wonders if he should have told Hubert to stay a little longer, so they could make the most of the time they have left. Although perhaps this is for the best. Those remaining days would only be filled with disappointment instead.

Through the tears, he smiles, for at least their goodbye will only last for this single lifetime.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading this story, I hope you enjoyed! Please be sure to check out the wonderful art of @Catatune accompanying this fic.
> 
> I have lots of exciting stuff coming up: the first chapter of a Sylvix longfic will be up on Monday, and I have a couple of other BBs in the work. Fics for Sylvix Week too, then a lot of stuff on the art side as well! Feel free to follow me on Twitter @nikobynight if you don't want to miss anything.
> 
> Have a good day!

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!
> 
> Again, find the artist @catatune;  
> And I also illustrated for this event too, which you will be able to find on my own Twitter @nikobynight.


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